Ten Inches of Mistaken Identity
by crowleyhasfeelz
Summary: Priestly, the grill master at a sandwich shop called 'Ten Inch Hero' is mistaken for someone else. However, he cannot for the life of him imagine that there is another colored Mohawk sporting, kilt wearing awesome guy on this planet, but he will roll with it.
1. Chapter 1

From a young age, Priestly's father had always given him one piece of advice. He had always told him, "be who you are and do not let anyone let you feel ashamed for it." For the most part, Priestly lived by these words. He may be a little on the eccentric side, but he was never ashamed of who he was, at least, not until he became an adult. At that point, it was a little too late for him to go changing who he was. He would always be that tattooed guy with the crazy hair and crazy outfits. What people didn't know, was that he cared about what people had to say about him and sometimes the words were hurtful.

"Italian on wheat," Trucker, their ex hippy boss called from the cash register. Normally there were many of them working, but it was a slow day and Trucker had let everyone except for Priestly and Piper go. "Light on the mayo."

"Greaser with a reduced risk of heart attack coming up," Priestly called back, not breaking eye contact with the grill. He knew that when he used terms like greaser instead of Italian, Trucker would always give him that look. He never scolded him, Trucker was not for changing people, but he would always give him the look that said he was being inappropriate. He did not mean to make these references; he could not help how his brain had been programmed over the years. Anyway, he found himself to be rather funny.

"You're one to talk," Piper looked up from whatever drawing she was currently working on at the moment. She did not opt to stay at work because she needed the money, she just did not like being all by her lonesome and used the customers as inspiration for whatever new piece of art she was gracing the world with. Priestly would never say it out loud but he admired her talent. "Have you even showered lately?"

"Are you kidding?" Priestly asked with a smile, raising his arm into the air and pretending to take a giant whiff of himself. "Ladies love that day old sexy beast smell. In fact, I think there is even a cologne to back me up."

"Right," Piper rolled her eyes at him, not before flashing him a smile. "We just melt when our noses catch the sweet aroma of B.O. and stale sandwiches."

"That's right," Priestly put the rest of the sandwich together and finally allowed himself to turn to his boss, hoping he had forgotten the slur he had used only minutes ago. "Was this for here or to go?"

"To go," Trucker did not even look up from his newspaper to give his answer.

Priestly wrapped the sandwich up, threw it in a bag, added a few napkins and then handed it to the only guy in the place. He told him to have a good day and then turned himself back to his grill to clean it off.

His job was not looked at by the world as being high class. It was a job that belonged to teenagers or those who did not have any other options, but Priestly lived for his grill. He lived in a small one-bedroom apartment and could not really grill anything there, but he got to grill at work. Also, Trucker had no problem with him using the grill for other things when it was slow or the shop was closed. His friends had just become accustomed to stopping in to eat dinner or even to come and grab lunch. He was the freak with amazing cooking skills and he was proud to be him, for the most part anyways.

"Should probably start turning the grill off," Trucker made his way over to Priestly and rested his hand on his shoulder. "I don't think we are going to be getting any more business this evening and we close in twenty minutes."

"Sure thing," Priestly began to turn off the grill and clean up his station. Piper pried herself away from her art to help get everything cleaned up. Neither of them were really in the mood to go home, Priestly could tell that without a word being said but they still needed to get their jobs done.

"Want to go grab a drink after this?" Piper finally suggested. Normally, Priestly was not a drinker, in fact, he really did not need to drink if they went out, and he did not want to go home. "We could even maybe hit up a movie or something. I hear they have some new superhero thing playing."

"You are like the lamest person I have ever met," Priestly laughed. Piper was younger than he was but she seemed to be an old lady at heart. She did not get half of his references and always seemed to be a page behind. She was smart however, she could answer general based questions on a hard scale like no other. "But yeah, a movie would be nice."

Just as Priestly had almost gotten all of the veggies put away, the chime from the front doors echoed throughout the store. Of course someone would come in five minutes to closing, just after they had gotten everything put away. Priestly did not even turn around, he just continued to wipe the counters and prayed that they were just looking for directions.

"Can I help you?" Piper made her way over to new store occupant with a friendly tone in her voice. Priestly knew that she was just as annoyed as him but she would never show it. Priestly, on the other hand, would tell the guy just where he could stick his sandwich he isn't going to get.

"Is there a manager available?" The man asked Piper, sending chills all the way down Priestly's back. It was like the man gargled with a shot of whiskey with bits of gravel thrown in. He hoped the man worked in customer service somewhere. He would love to be able to call and hear that voice often.

"Yeah," Piper made her way past Priestly toward the back where Trucker's office was. "Trucker, you have someone here to see you."


	2. Chapter 2

You would think that by now, Castiel would understand how to be human. This was not the first time that he had lived the life of a human and with the way things seemed to work out, it would not be the last. If he ever got his grace back, he was bound to lose it again. He was always losing his grace. Maybe that meant he was not meant to have it to begin with.

The first time he had been human, he was lost; completely unsure of what he was supposed to do with himself. The second time, he had gotten a job, sure he was not the best at his job and it was a low level job, but it was the most human thing he had ever done. So, even though he had no experience, no social security card or ID, he was going to try and get a job. He needed money in order eat, stay clean and hopefully have a place to live. Hopefully he would not be human long enough to need to acquire a home, but he was really uncertain at this time.

Subconsciously, he knew that he needed to go to Sam and Dean. They would give him a place to live and keep him taken care of. He just couldn't bring himself to ask for their help yet again. He had messed up again, let them down again, and the last thing they needed was him in their lives, making things worse. No. He needed to do this on his own, for their sake and for his. He needed to prove to himself that he could do this, just in case it ended up being a permanent arrangement.

Having hit all the higher up establishments in town and being basically laughed away, Castiel knew that he was going to have to go the same route the he did before. He was not disappointed in it, nor did he feel that lower level jobs were beneath him; he just knew that they did not pay as much money and he was in desperate need of money.

Ten Inch Hero was the next stop on his list. According to the information he found, it was a sandwich shop owned by what the internet referred to as 'the surfer type of guy.' Castiel was not really sure what that had to do with the business or how the man ran it. It was possible that surfers really enjoyed sandwiches, eating them and making them apparently.

Taking a deep breath and fixing his trench coat, Castiel pulled open the door to the shop. His heart began to race even more when the bell above the door alerted the establishment of his presence. From what he could tell, they were cleaning up for the evening and getting ready to head home. Hopefully his presence would not be a disturbance.

"Can I help you?" Castiel lifted his head to make eye contact with a young blond woman who was probably in her early to mid-twenties. She was very attractive by the standards of humans and so Castiel found it almost impossible to not blush when she spoke to him.

"Is there a manager available?" Castiel asked when he was finally able to form words again. He was not sure if it was the beautiful woman that had him stumbling over his words or if it was the impending doom of being turned away yet again looming directly around the corner.

"Yeah," the girl responded quickly and then began to walk towards the back of the store yelling for someone named Trucker. Either his name was Trucker or he was in fact a trucker. That would be odd considering that Castiel was informed that he was going to be meeting with a surfer. He could very well be a surfing trucker; humans were creatures who had mastered the trades.

Castiel stood quietly as he waited for this 'Trucker' to come out and speak with him, his eyes looking around the store to get a feel for the establishment. It had a very deli appearance to it but it was also rustic and homier. There was not a case full of premade sandwiches. This was the place where you ordered your food and then it was made for you on the spot. People tended to like to watch their food be made, making it interesting how the restaurant business had remained so profitable.

Before he had a chance to take in every aspect of the store he could, a tall male figure in the corner caught his eye. He could not see the man's face but that did not stop him from catching Castiel's attention. It was hard not to be drawn to a man with bright neon green hair, sticking up in what appeared to be something called a Mohawk, if Castiel remembered his terms right. Along with the Mohawk was a neck tattoo that looked to be tribal, though Castiel could not seem to make out which tribe. The man was also wearing a kilt, so the man was Scottish.

"Can I help you?" A man emerged from the back room and made his way over to Castiel. He appeared to be rather normal looking. Castiel did not know a lot about surfers or truckers, but this man appeared to be nothing more than your regular, every day man. This intimidated Castiel even more. The regular men seemed to be turning him away these days.

"Yes, uh," Castiel tried to find his words. He had given many speeches on why he should be hired and still nothing was working. "I am seeking employment."

"Okay," the man smiled at him and stepped behind the counter. He returned a few moments later with a piece of paper in his hand. "Here is our application."

Castiel took the paper from the man and looked down at it. This was a bust. Castiel could not fill out even a quarter of this paper without lying. Then there was a chance that they were going to ask for some kind of proof behind the information; proof he could not provide. "Uh, thank you."

Castiel bowed his head forward in defeat and turned to walk away but the man stopped him, grabbing at his shoulder. "Is there a problem with the application? I would be more than happy to go over it with you."

"No problem," Castiel admitted and shrugged. "I just … I don't actually have a lot of this information. It is hard to explain why but that just happens to be my circumstances. I am sorry for wasting your time."

Castiel began to hand back the application but he was stopped, the man pushing it back in his direction. "How about you fill out what you can and we will go from there?"

"Yes," Castiel smiled up at the man, happier than he had been in days. This was not him getting a job but he was not being told no right away and that was an improvement. "I will get this done and bring it back first thing in the morning."

"Noon," the man, who Castiel knew to be Trucker gave him a time. "I tend to be in a much better mood once noon hits, so I would advise coming back around noon or after."

"I will be here," Castiel lifted the application up and nodded toward Trucker. "Thank you so much."

Castiel quickly exited the store. He did not want to give the man time to change his mind about letting Castiel continue to apply for the job.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ready Freddy?" Piper asked Priestly as she was getting ready to head out the back door. "Movie starts in half hour."

"I will catch up," Priestly waved her on through the door. "I just need to finish up this quick inventory list. I hate doing it first thing in the morning."

"I will get us some tickets," she patted him on the shoulder as she made her way out the back door, but not before stopping to get one more thing in. "But you are buying me popcorn and a large soda."

"That goes without question," he laughed, turning back to his inventory. He knew that tomorrow was the day that Trucker liked to get his list of supplies so that he could hit up the store. He was not the kind of man who ordered from big supply chains. He got all of his meat from the local farmer's markets and meat markets; the bread being made on site. It took him about ten minutes and he was finally ready to lock up and run to meet up with Piper.

Priestly pulled his coat on over his t-shirt that read 'seven days without a pun makes one weak.' Beyond his hair, his tattoos and piercings and his kilts, Priestly was known for his awesome t-shirts. He wanted to make sure to never let anyone down.

Halfway to the movie theater and Priestly could not help but notice a man sitting on a bench that sat in front of the grocery store. He was an attractive man, causing Priestly to momentarily lose his train of thought. It was then that he noticed the paper that was in the man's hand. This was the man who had come into the shop looking for a job. The man with the whiskey gravel voice that made every hair on his body stand on end. But why was he filling out the application on a bench?

"You always fill out your applications on benches in the middle of the night?" Priestly asked, making his way over to stand in front of the man.

"I was just …" the man began to speak before lifting his head up to make eye contact with Priestly. "Dean?"

"Uh, Priestly," he answered, cocking his head to the side

"Why are you dressed like this Dean?" the man stood up and looked Priestly over from head to toe. "Are you and Sam undercover and this is some crazy undercover costume? Did you lose the coin toss?"

"Wow," Priestly could not help but feel rather offended. Did he really look like that much of a freak that this man had to go out of his way to make fun of him? "Real funny pal. You don't look to great yourself. Ever heard of a comb?"

"Dean, why are you speaking like this?" The man continued on with whatever crazy notion he had rambling around in his head. "Where is Sam?"

"Listen buddy," Priestly stepped a little closer to the man, ready to throw a punch if it came down to it. He was not an combative man and he did not get into fights very often but he was not going to stand around and let this man make fun of him. "I don't know who the hell Sam is but I would like you to know that green mohawks are all the rage right now."

Okay, so that is not really what he meant to say. He was going to say something about kicking his ass and how he better watch his mouth but Priestly was apparently not running on smooth today.

"I … I apologize," the man stepped back, looking Priestly over again, his stunning blue eyes getting wide. "You just. You look just like someone that I used to know. I did not mean to offend you. Please accept my sincere apology."

"Whatever man," Priestly took a step back and shoved his hands into his pocket. "That still doesn't answer why you are filling out the application for the shop on a bench in the dead of night."

"This spot had the best lighting," the man admitted shyly. It was then that Priestly really noticed the man. He was a little bit shorter than Priestly was and very attractive. He had black hair that looked like it had never seen a brush and giant blue eyes and shined like the clearest of lakes. He was dressed like a tax accountant but Priestly could tell by his manners that he had probably never even met a tax accountant. "And everywhere I could go to fill it out was closed."

"Why not just take it home and fill it out there?" Priestly asked curiously, immediately regretting it. He did not know this guys story and he was not really wanting to dig into anything too deep.

"I do not currently have a home," the man sat back down on the bench and hung his head down. "That is why I am trying so hard to get a job. No one around here seems to be hiring."

"Well I think your luck is about to change," Priestly held out his hand to the man. "Name is Priestly."

"Castiel," Castiel reached out and shook his hand. Strange name but Priestly liked it. Strange names seemed to be a thing in these parts. "And what makes you believe in my luck changing?"

"Well Trucker is a really nice guy. He likes to give all us misfits who don't fit in a place to work." Priestly looked down at his watch and realized that he was going to be late for the movie, so he began to head in that direction, but not before turning back to Castiel and shouting across the street. "And I am going to put in a good word for you."


End file.
